Foot In The Door 5 at MIA - AKA My Mom's Museum Debut!

I could not be more thrilled to announce the opening of my Mom's first museum showing in the Foot In The Door 5 exhibit held every ten years at the Minneapolis Institute of Art! The idea is that once a decade, MIA opens its doors to artists from the area, with the only criteria being that their work must fit within one square foot. This year's extravaganza of paintings, photography, drawings, prints, mixed media, sculpture, and textiles has to be held virtually due to Covid, which is a big drag, but super cool nonetheless that my Mom is in her first museum show at age 80! 

To know Marilyn Gronner is to love her, and no one knows her or loves her better than me. This is because yes, she's my Mom, but also because I have seen her work so hard and sacrifice her entire life - always with grace, always with an eye toward helping others, and always with a smile on her face. She was a music and art double major at Augsburg College (our whole family's alma mater), and was (is!) a beautiful painter and musician (trumpet, piano, and pipe organ!). She met my Dad, got married, had three kids, and figured she'd raise us and work on her art and that would be her perfectly happy life. 

The world doesn't always work out for you like you think it's going to, sadly. My Dad died of cancer at 33, and left Mom alone with three kids to raise. Painting and music were pushed to the back burners, as Mom focused her full attention on us, doing any and all creative jobs she could to keep us fed, clothed in what all the other kids were wearing, and with a happy enough childhood to not really notice it was different from most of our friends' families. But best believe that our graceful swan of a Mother was scrambling her legs hard and fast under the surface to make sure we all stayed afloat. And we always have.

Years passed, I moved away, always encouraging Mom to pick up her paints again, but never really seeing it happen. Last year I came back home to help Mom after she tragically lost one of her scrambling legs due to a vicious infection. She moved into an assisted living facility, where we thought she could finally return to her passion for painting. That didn't happen, because their big activities were like Bingo and junk like that, and Mom was miserable in there. That was not going to be the rest of her life on my watch. 

We got Mom out of the awful home just in time, about a month before the world began to lock down for Covid, and we would not have even been able to visit her! Once home, I was going to make sure that Mom's life was happy and creative again, and we went out and got her some tiny canvases to get to work on, thinking that the smaller sizes would be less intimidating for her to complete. I had never even heard of the Foot In The Door exhibits at MIA in the past, and then I saw an announcement for it in City Pages one day (RIP, City Pages!). The art had to be fit within one square foot, and here Mom was working in exactly that size and smaller!

I secretly submitted my favorite of Mom's new pieces, Peace of Wood Lake, because Wood Lake means so much to me, she had painted it as as gift to me for springing her from the dreadful prison of a nursing home, and because I thought it was the best of her recent work. I waited about a month, and then received the happy news that Mom's work had been accepted, and she would be in her first museum show at 80 years old! I literally jumped up and down all over the house when I heard, and Mom just laughed at me, not really getting the big deal of it, but happy to see me so happy for her. 

I could not be prouder of this lady, truly. Her attitude on life has always been so positive ... but this is the woman who told the doctors that she'd like to walk into her surgery to remove her leg on her own two feet one last time - and she did. The strength that took (and the pain she must have felt!) has been an inspiration not just to her kids, who adore her unconditionally, but to people the world over. This is the woman who did not want to spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair watching daytime t.v. - she wanted to return to her creative life, and be better than she ever had been before. She has a new enthusiasm for her work, which had been dormant for decades, and this has been rewarded by having her first new piece of art accepted into a show at an internationally renowned museum, that also happens to be one of my favorites anywhere (especially this last year with their groundbreaking show like Hearts Of Our People and When Home Won't Let You Stay, plus Ai Wei Wei's awesome installation last winter!). My Mom is in MIA!!! How extra cool is that?!?!

Please attend Foot In The Door 5 online, and don't forget to click on the little heart next to my Mom's work as one that you love, as we continue to encourage her to keep it all up! I wish we could really see it on the walls of the actual museum ... but we're going to aim for Foot In The Door 6 for that! Thank you to all involved for giving my Mom the recognition and encouragement she has earned through her lifetime, and for giving her the opportunity to show her work. This proves that you are never too old to be doing something you love, and that doors will always open to you when you follow your heart and your deepest passions. She would also like you to know that she's accepting commissions! That's right.

Congratulations on your Museum debut, dear Mom! Wow. 

Foot In The Door 5 is virtually on display now through January 10, 2021 HERE! 

 

Clogtown - The Richfield Sidewalk Poetry Celebration

What a beautiful morning we shared together in Richfield this past Saturday. The Richfield Arts Commission and Crossroads Panorama put on a celebration to honor the poets and poems that won the Sidewalk Poetry contest this year - and I was one of them! I hadn't planned on being in town to be able to attend, but then my Mom went into the hospital, and I'm still here ... so we made it the goal to be Mom's first outing after having her leg amputated two weeks before.

The day was already emotional for sure, because of all Mom has been through, and just having her be able to be there with me was already making me cry. I mentioned to the poet, Emily Gold, seated on the new Bandshell stage beside me that I was not sure how I was going to do reading my poem looking at my Mom sitting there in the front row in her wheelchair. Then, she told me that she was struggling also, as her poem was about her eight year old daughter who had passed away only two months ago. Whoa. The strength she had to do that ... was humbling and inspiring. There was a performance by the young ladies from the Crossroads Panorama theater group, and then it was time for the poetry reading. Space on the sidewalk limits the lines and characters you could use, so mercifully, the poems were all short as we listened under the blazing hot sun. Gold read her beautiful tribute to her daughter, Lizzie, right before me, so after crying over her poem, I had to get up and cry about my own - but we did it, and I felt so happy to look out and see Mom there, smiling away.

All of the poems were wonderful, and all of them exemplified how we feel about our hometown of Richfield - it's special. The one by Bo Mitchell about HIS Mom (who died five years ago) fully wrecked me, and warmed my (already boiling hot) heart that a man would be so vulnerable in sharing about what his Mother meant to THEIR Richfield family.

It was incredibly moving. It was also SO hot out, however, that tears could easily be mistaken for sweat. I pointed out before reading my poem that I live in Venice, where poetry is historically very celebrated. There are poetry walls at the beach. The Free Venice Beachhead paper's motto is "This paper is a poem." But I never really felt poetry was any big deal here when I was growing up in Richfield, so I was happy to see so many people out at 9:00 a.m. on a hot Saturday morning in celebration of poems!

The wonderful new Mayor of Richfield, Maria Regan Gonzalez, was there - in fact, she rode her bike there. Awesome. We took a photo together with Mom, and you can tell how happy we all are in the celebration of both beautiful poems, and the triumph of the human spirit that allowed Mom to be there. The poems this time will be installed in the sidewalks along 66th street - I'm hoping mine goes in by the Richfield Pool (as is mentioned in my poem as a kind of bribe). My first one is on Portland in front of the Fire Station and City Hall, and I told the crowd gathered that I'm going for a hat trick next year (as the celebration was adjacent to the Ice Arena). It's pretty cool to have something I wrote actually be set in stone/concrete.

Thank you to Richfield, for this delightful honor, and to everyone who cares about poems!

*Group Poet photo by Thomas Eder

Clogtown - The Salt Cave Minneapolis

Well ... if you don't follow me on social media, you may not know what my family is going through. A very long story short, my adored and revered Mother had to have her leg amputated below the knee last Friday. I am back in Minnesota to help and to advocate - and to cry and hold hands a lot. I don't know how I can possibly leave this warrior woman until I know she will be in good hands and is solid, so in the meantime, I'm going to share some stories from what I'm calling Clogtown - The Twin Cities. In all of this ordeal, I have maybe never felt more stressed out. I never planned to be here so long, so there is work to think about, my mother's health, her home, where she'll go next ... all of it. I've driven by The Salt Cave Minneapolis for a few years, and wondered about it. I looked it up and one of the things it claims to help is stress, so yesterday I found myself taking a break from the hospital and headed to The Salt Cave.

A little storefront on Nicollet Avenue doesn't really look like much, but once you are led downstairs into the salt cave, it's pretty cool. One room that is bathed in a rose quartz-ish light and lined with lawn type chairs, and the floor is covered with so much salt it's like having your bare feet in sand.

This beach vibe is enhanced by a soundtrack of crashing waves, and the attendant told me to sit in the chair closest to this vent for the best salt experience - but that I would get salty. I sat down and tried to just breathe and focus the breaths along with the ebbing and flowing waves on the sound system. I'm a terrible meditation person, because my mind immediately races to ten thousand places - especially now. Focusing my breathing to the waves did help a bit, but I still found myself going over what calls and emails I need to make, and all that jazz. 

I was alone until an older gentleman came in and sat a few chairs down. We paid no attention to each other, and after a while I forgot he was there. I felt tingly a couple times, and also nearly nodded off another couple of times. It was supremely relaxing (as opposed to the Dragon City Acupuncture at Southdale cacophony I endured for a chair massage. I don't know how a place meant to relax and de-stress can stay in business across from Dave & Buster's!), and when I briefly opened my eyes, I saw that my clothes and body was entirely covered with salt, as if I'd fallen asleep outside in a light snowfall. I was told that it works via your breathing, but the Himalayan pink salt also goes in through your pores. I was covered an inch deep, so I should be real good.

After the 45 minutes session ($30) was over, the lights gently get brighter and you start dusting off the salt. While doing so, I realized that the tension I had felt at the base of my skull was no longer there. The slight headache I'd had between my eyes was also absent. I felt as if I had just woken up from an intense nap, though I never fell asleep. The only physical thing I could really complain about after was that I was extra thirsty - makes sense. I asked the man who was in there with me how it was working for him, as I'd been told he comes every week, and we had waited for him to start. I'd still be there listening to him (and I was fine with it) if the attendant hadn't come downstairs to say she had to close up, but he was EFFUSIVE in how much it had helped him. He had a rare lung thing that he went to the Mayo Clinic for, and after regular sessions at The Salt Cave, he'd been told at his follow up visit that the thing was gone and that his lung capacity had actually increased! I believe.

There are several afflictions the salt sessions help with, from asthma to allergies to skin problems, but even if you just need a break from some real harsh reality, like me, The Salt Cave really can help you. My spirits, attitude, tension, and stress had all been somewhat lifted, even if for just 45 minutes. The invisible part, like salt in your pores, must help too, because I feel physically fantastic today. Hey ... whatever helps in times like these! They also offer yoga classes in there, and gong and sound bath things, and you can arrange to get a chair massage while sitting in your session - next time for sure. I like that Minneapolis is into groovy things like this, and realized once again that you can find your Venice anywhere, as it's inside of you. But Venice could use a Salt Cave too! Check it out ... you'll be better for it.

And Have a HAPPY 4th, Everyone - from sea to shining sea and every lake and river in between!

The Salt Cave
4811 Nicollet Avenue South
Minneapolis, MN 55419
#612-567-2587
Saltcaveminnesota.com

Help Yourself!

I was on a walk this morning, all the way in my own head, when I was very touched to see that a lovely home on Couer D'Alene had set out a little buffet of to-go food on their fence for anyone who might need it, and wrote in chalk, "Help Yourself!"

That is how we need to be in our community, with shorter fences and longer tables. I thought about what it means to help yourself ... yes, take some food and that meaning, but also we all have to really help ourselves. You can't rely on anyone else to know what help you need, so you either need to ask for it or figure it out on your own. My Mom never complains, and it took me begging to get her to go to the hospital, where she is now, being helped because she finally asked for it. I worked on a heavy show for Viceland last year, Dopesick Nation, where there were so many addicts that simply weren't ready (or didn't know how) to get help - which I suspect is the case for many of the people we see living on our streets - the ones that this food spread is for. Yet we're all in this together, and the residents of this home get that.

It's hard to ask for help, and I find myself always trying to help myself on my own, but when you are lacking strength, and feeling sad, I can't tell you much help means. Even just near strangers telling you on Facebook that they're thinking of you and your Mom in a comment ... I NEEDED that, and SO appreciate it, and hope everyone knows that. My heart swells every time I see that someone cares.

I remember Mr. Rogers saying that in times of crisis, "Look for the Helpers." Walking by this home today, it lifted my spirits and encouraged me to go on in strength - because there are people like this among us still. They had also written, "Happy Mother's Day, Mother Earth!" on their sidewalk in chalk, so I know I love them. And thank them. And plan to emulate them. As we all could do.

Help yourself!

A Wilderness Getaway To Sequoia And King's Canyon National Parks - American Splendor

"This grand show is eternal." - John Muir

When I was home a few weeks ago, I had asked my Mom what places and things she had yet to see or do in life that she really wanted to. She mentioned seeing the giant trees in California, which I had yet to see myself, so for her birthday yesterday, we had her come out from Minnesota, jump in the car, and speed up to see the biggest trees in the world in Sequoia National Park for the weekend. And I'm SO glad we did!

Before we left on Saturday morning, Mom and I went to see Won't You Be My Neighbor? on Friday night. I mention this because you HAVE to see it. Mr. Rogers was a true American treasure - on a level with Generals Sherman and Grant that we were about to meet in the National Park. We cried our eyes out throughout the film, and silently vowed to try to be more like Fred Rogers. Seriously, no one left when the movie ended ... everyone just sat there in the quiet, trying to gather themselves before leaving the theater. All you heard were sniffles, and then the laughter that comes with an entire group of strangers being equally moved. A gem of a film that should be required American viewing - especially in these times. Please go. A quick sleep, and we were off to the forest the next morning!

Sequoia and Kings Canyon are really not that far away, and a few hours (like 3 1/2) from Venice, we were deep in the most gorgeous nature setting ever. I've been to Yosemite, which is the marquee California park, but these two are just as beautiful AND have these towering trees that honestly made me emotional to behold. We met General Sherman first, and he is the biggest tree in the world. I was super into it ... and not surprisingly - super moved. Pure, breathtaking majesty. It was so cool to see people from all over the globe all excited to see trees. Folks took turns taking photos of families, and kindness and politeness were the norm, as citizens of the world who still care about nature, and take time out of their lives to make these pilgrimages.

I choked up when I read the quote I opened this story with from John Muir, the famous naturalist who many places in these parks are named for. "This grand show is eternal." There has been talk under this current and awful Administration that these parks could be drilled in, or sold to corporate interests, or whatever nefarious things they've got up their sleeves. This. Must. Not. Happen. There is such a sense of relief when you leave the cities and enter these sacred, pristine lands ... that places like this still - and MUST - exist.  I mean, we saw a golden bear and her cub right from the road (with a far away, blurry photo- for obvious reasons)! And multiple deer! And and and! We HAVE to fight to protect them, no matter what. THIS is the best of America.

Mom thought so too. We had this road trip idea for her birthday, but her children got just as much out of it, believe me. I was gasping and yelling and running around taking photos the whole time, and I felt like I was in nature's church the entire weekend - beaming. Tourists, and proud of it.

The last minute plan meant we had no reservations to stay anywhere, but that's often how I roll, knowing that things will work out somehow. And they did. After a long day of driving and sight-seeing, we needed a hot meal and a bed, and we lucked out, pulling over to Gena's Sierra Inn right outside of the parks in Dunlap. The restaurant had a motel attached, with a vacancy! Bam. We ate, we drank, and we sat outside on the patio under the stars, as my brother Paul borrowed a guitar and played for Mom. It was excellent, and positioned us perfectly to wake up, have a great breakfast right there, and then head back into the parks to see General Grant and then King's Canyon.

General Grant is the third largest tree in the world, and was named "The Nation's Christmas Tree" by President Coolidge in 1926. There is a hushed awe when the flocks of tourists approach these giants, as there should be. The surrounding forest is just as impressive, and my brother and I had a grand old time climbing up the rocks and hills while our Mom watched us and yelled at us to be careful ... just like the good old days (Where's Pablo?!).

As it was just an overnight trek, we had a lot of ground to cover in a short amount of time - again, how I often roll. We drove the winding roads into King's Canyon, and pretty much freaked out the whole time at how stunningly beautiful it all was. It was hot and sunny, with perfect white, fluffy clouds to add some flourishes to our photographic memories of our Mom's birthday.

Mountains, trees, rivers, lakes, waterfalls, animals, meadows, flowers ... all of it overwhelmingly beautiful, it was almost surreal. It was almost like a backdrop you couldn't believe was real, but there it was.

The river looked so inviting, it was all we could do to not jump in on this hot day, but that would have made for a rather uncomfortable ride back to Venice later ... but now I regret not doing it.

We had a picnic on a rock next to the river, and then Paul and I ran off to check out this meadow, as my Mom is dealing with a bum foot. I wish she had been with us, as this Zumwalt Meadow brought to mind one of Mom's favorite movies of all time ... The Sound Of Music. You almost HAD to twirl around with arms outstretched at the pure glory of what you were beholding. I'm back at the office now, and that meadow is the star of my daydreams, and I can still almost smell the pine needles. Forest Therapy is real.

We had almost every kind of day, from sweltering hot to thunder and rain to chilly and then back to boiling hot as we traversed the roads that took us from mountain high to valley low. Our photos look like they're from several days, but really is was a few hours. Hours that had eternal value.

As do these National Parks, hearkening back to the Muir quote up top. It truly IS a grand show, with oohs and aahs literally around every corner. Even the wildfires that happen up here (as evidenced by the black scarring on trees or barren branches) create new life ... the only thing that could really harm them is corporations and greed ... and we must never, ever let that happen.

 Trips like these re-fire me up about this stuff every single time. We just had the most special weekend together as a family (sans my brother Rich who had to work, but we thought of the whole time), and will remember it for always. Nature is our teacher, and our gift. We have to protect it to show our gratitude. And we will.

A speedy drive back to Venice got us back in time to take Mom out for her birthday dinner, which we spent looking at the photos and re-living our brief, but beautiful, time in the Giant Forest of Sequoia and in King's Canyon. Even after just two days in this American Splendor (another great movie), it was weird to be back in the hubbub of the city. Almost disturbing, really. It really should be on your list if you've never been, and your entrance fee alone is doing your part to show that these places matter - deeply. I'm so excited for you to see it too.

Thank you, Mother Nature, and thank you, Mother Gronner ... for you both were the reason for this road trip, and this story. And I love you both endlessly.

International Women's Day 2018 - R.E.S.P.E.C.T!

It's nice that everyone is posting about International Women's Day today, but I've never been a fan of "Days" like this, mainly because I think it only showcases that there's still a need to be set apart, and, of course, we should all be cool to everybody on every day. Still, it's nice. I was thinking about the past year, and all that has been going on in regards to Women ... and it's a good thing. I went through and picked out some highlights of the last year, celebrating women with the women I know and love. It all began with the Women's March in January of 2017, and that thing was something else. Peaceful protest, full of love, all day long. Who runs the world?!

After the Women's March, we took to the streets of Venice for International Women's Day last year. After a great presentation at Principessa, we had our own march right down the middle of Abbot Kinney. Honks and waves of support let us know that the movement is only growing. Women are rad.

I was surrounded by the wonderful women of Venice in the summer when I got to be the Neptune Queen, and it was a glorious day of celebrating with my mermaids ...

... And my bathing beauties! Our Venice women know how to have FUN!

I got to spend my birthday with my best friends, my home friends, and we kicked up our heels on the banks of the mighty Mississippi, where I always go to regroup and feel my roots. I'm so lucky to have lifelong friends that only get better with each passing year.

My favorite woman in all the world is my darling Mother, and we got to spend a lot of time together this past year, with massive appreciation for each other obvious and apparent in every lovely memory that we created. She is a masterpiece of humanity, and I learned how to be a good person from her. She personifies good, and I absolutely honor and celebrate her every single day.

I'm still as tight as ever with my girls from high school, and we had a ladies night when I was home where I once again felt so happy that we can just pick up where we left off every time. It's rare, and it's super extra special to me. I'm full of gratitude for every one of them, again, every day.

The Golden Globes asked that all women wear black this year to showcase the "Me Too" and "Time's Up" movements, and honestly, it's all well past long overdue. Every lady I know has had some sexual harassment b.s. to deal with. I was asked by a kind of old school guy today, "Well, when is Men's Day?" and I just had to laugh. The patriarchy is so old and rusty it's funny, if it wasn't still so gross and wrong. I know SO many smart, funny, kind, talented, gorgeous, wonderful single women (myself included), and I get asked all the time why no one has snatched me - or them -  up yet, and the answer is because men need to be better. Get some balls. Ask women out. Court them. Be good to them. Don't cheat on them (if you can't do that, don't commit at all in the first place). Don't sexually harass them (duh). Communicate. Be honest. RESPECT them. It's really not that hard. But for some reason (perhaps entire generations being overly coddled by their mothers to the point that chivalry is nearly dead because they've had everything done for them - just a guess), it seems to be real hard to grasp. And women should never settle.

 Venice Mardi Gras was full of beautiful, strong Venice women, and there hasn't been a better time yet this year. Hail the Queen!

I love this photo of myself as a kid, because I think I look like no nonsense, and I've tried to remain true to that raised chin ever since. The whole photo is of my whole family, and I've got on a halter and skinned knees from playing with all the boys (there are very few women in my family). I never felt less than. I never felt like boys were better. I felt like I could do just about everything boys could do - and still do. I guess (or I've been told) that that can be intimidating or less attractive or whatever, but if men can't handle women like me - or the scores of equal-minded women I know - then they're really not worthy of us, and here we are.

That little girl wants to be like this woman I saw on the internet when I grow up. Having fun, taking no prisoners, and spreading love all the while. It's all a choice.

International Women's Day feels cooler this year, because we're surfing a changing tide, and it's good. Cheers to ALL women, and Men, we look forward to you being better. Thank you in advance!

A Winter Wonderland Everywhere

I'm back from my winter break, it's a new year ... and I'm wondering how all of that happened so fast? We just had the Glögg party, I flew off to Minnesota, and now I'm already back in Venice working away on a new year? Whoa. Thank goodness there are so many great memories crammed in there, to know that it really happened.

Christmas was in the air all over Minnesota, even if the snow was not. It looked more like Easter when we got off the plane, brown and dead and ugly. We consoled ourselves that it's all really more about seeing loved ones and having fun, not cavorting about in a sparkling winter wonderland. But still.

Right out of the gate (after a quick polish at The Brow Studio. Thanks, Brook!) we headed off to meet Tonja at the Swedish Institute in Minneapolis, where the halls were all decked in each Scandinavian country's traditional manner. It was all just beautiful, and educational too.

We did not say no to more glögg, and it was even nice enough out that you could enjoy it on a hay bale outside next to the fire and the Sami style teepee.

Zooming off from there to a lovely round of pre-game drinks at the St. Paul Hotel, we warmed up before the stroll across the all lit up Rice Park to the Excel Center for the Minnesota Wild game.

The Wild were not to be victorious this night, but I saw old friends, made new ones, cheered for the home team, and generally just felt thrilled to be home.

Last minute shopping meant that we had to brave the insane Mall of America on Christmas Eve day, but that complete mayhem was soon forgotten, in the peace of a candle lit Mindekirken for "Silent Night" at the Christmas Eve service. All was calm. All was bright.

As was Christmas Day, when we did not wake up to a blanket of fresh snow, like we'd hoped. Instead, we had sunshine and no real need for jackets as headed out for Christmas Day church at Nokomis Heights.

No Lutheran Christmas is really complete without the trip to the church basement to indulge in all the beautiful baking the congregants prepare for the Christmas coffee. They take it very seriously.

The big event for Christmas Day is the annual gathering of the Hendricksons and friends. It is looked forward to all year long, with friends, family, food and fun all day long. It's always good to see how the kids have grown bigger, and how we've all grown in our own ways.

This year Santa was played by Danny Hendrickson, and the kids got all riled up, wondering both what he brought them, and who he really was.

His daughter Grace pulled off the beard, and the jig was up, but the kids were delighted anyway.

All day long we laughed, drank, ate and had great conversations with great people. We had the annual speech that I beg for by Larry Hendrickson, reminding us all what it's all about.

Even the kids sit and listen quietly (or may have been on devices, but it was quiet). Between Jane, Marilyn and Christine ... we could all learn a lot. So much wisdom, kindness and generosity exudes from them, it's nice to just sit and hope some rubs off on you.

It was extra-special to have my brother, Paul back in Minnesota with us this year, and Mom was pretty much beaming the whole time at having her kids all back home with her again. VERY special.

We checked out the new Co-op in Richfield, where Paul found the very best hat ever. He was a huge hit with the ladies at Ingebretsen's, our pilgrimage stop for more lefse and stuff the day after Christmas.

 Paul and the wooden Viking inside shared a moment, all to the delight of the staff.

We finally made it to Matt's Bar for Jucy Lucys, where my Dad used to go back in the day to get burgers for him and my Mom. People still love it, as evidenced by the fact that we had to stand outside and wait in line for almost an hour. Worth it? Yes. Mostly for the time with mom and brother, but the burger was swell too.

Then it was back to Richfield for the 40th birthday blowout of Danny Hendrickson (Santa) at Fireside Pizza. It was jam-packed with Spartans young and old, all ready to toast their friend and celebrate with the people we all grew up with. It was a riot.

As the reveling carried on, someone in the crowd told me to look outside. It was practically a blizzard outside, a day late, but all the more welcome! I'd spent the whole previous day lamenting the lack of a White Christmas, so Darby knew how happy I was.

Even though everyone made a big deal that I got to have my snow, I could tell they were all happy about it too, as much as they do protest. It's so pretty with fresh snow, you have to love it. (OK, at first).

After an entire night of snowfall, the next morning was so bright and beautiful, you really did need to wear shades. And go directly to Wood Lake.

The grounds of nature preserve were pristine, untouched, sparkling white diamonds everywhere. As we walked deeper into the woods, we'd pass by cross country skiers with rosy cheeks and wide grins. This was the kind of day that they live for.

This was probably my most Richfield trip back in a long time ... locations, people, activities ... all of them mostly centered around my hometown ... "The Urban Hometown," as the new sign reads. One night we went out to the new gastropub in Richfield (a gastropub in Richfield!), Lyn 65, and had a great time catching up with Richfield classmates.

Then my friend Boyd had his birthday pub crawl, and I went to more places in town I'd never been, the American Legion and Frenchman's! Never. Been. The Legion was classic, old couples all dressed up to go dancing on a Saturday night, still the feel of a holiday party in the air. And Frenchman's was  ... Frenchman's. A classic dive. Paul and I walked home under the bright stars, declining a ride, as Paul said, "No thanks, Carol and I are Adventurers." Perfect.

More meals, more visits, more drinks, more reunions ... so many I didn't always get photos. Beautiful times were spent with the Meyer Family, my high school girls, the Barachs, Tonja, and we were so happy to see the family we lived next door to all my childhood, the Kusunokis. We exchanged stories and I was happy to bring cherry chip cookies to Pearl, who is the original maker of the now-classic cookie.

Then it was time for more hockey, with a Richfield Spartan game, under new head coach, our friend Shuter (Dave Shute)! Alas, they didn't win either, but not for lack of alumni yelling.

Post-game, it was nice to have a little more cozying up by the fire time with friends ...

 ... cozy until it became family jam time, that is. Then it was all metal.

In years past, it's been all about running around and seeing as many people as possible. This time it was really all about Mom, and spending as much time with her as possible. The solution then, is to bring Mom along for all the running around and seeing as many people as WE can. We did pretty good, huh, Mom?

There was a very rare and special gathering of the Gronner Bowling League. I'm happy to report I almost beat both of my brothers. I didn't, but still. They've got skills.

It was time to leave just as the thermometers dipped below zero - and that was not planned.

The last morning we went to Minnehaha Falls to see if it had frozen, and though it was still running, that princess Elsa would've been right at home.

BRRRRR! It was bracing. And exhilarating. And I loved every second of it.

After a farewell spin around the city lakes, and another happy hour laughing and making plans for the new year, it was time to head back to Venice.

 With so much going on, and lives and places changing all the time, it's kind of hard to say goodbye when you won't see many of the faces until next year, or even longer. That's when you have to just be happy that you got to see them at all, and implore them all to visit when it really gets - and stays - cold.

But when I got back to Venice, we had our own Winter Wonderland!

It was pretty lame when compared to the Great White North, but it's nice that they do something for the kids in winter if they can't get out to the mountains for the real deal. And you can't be mad at this kind of winter at all once Christmas is over.

The kind of winter that lets you walk barefoot in the sand on the last day of the year. That lets you toast the new year on the first day on your balcony. In your t-shirt.

But the best part of the winter is really gathering with loved ones and having a break, no matter what it's doing outside. To recharge your batteries, touch your roots, count your many blessings, and plan for a new year of adventuring!



Thank you, thank you to everyone who made me smile over the holidays, in both homes. You are the wonder.

Happiest New Year to All!